Page 63 of Blind Luck

“Wrong time of year for that. This is the Storm’s practice rink, and we’re going skating.”

“What?”

“It’s that thing where you put on fancy boots and slide along the ice.”

“I know what it is. I want to know why you think I can do it?”

“Because I’m planning to teach you.”

“Oh, really?”

“From when I was fourteen to when I was eighteen, I taught pretty much half the kids in Savigny to skate. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“You might know what you’re doing, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“We’ll change that. Hey, you said you wanted to take a trip somewhere cold, didn’t you? It isn’t Alaska, but it’s chilly.”

“And I’m wearing a T-shirt.”

“There’s a sweater in the back. Plus gloves and a scarf, knee pads, elbow pads, and thick socks. I brought three pairs of figure skates because I wasn’t sure what size your feet were.”

“Boy, you really thought this through.”

“Yeah, I did.” He seemed oddly pleased with himself.

And honestly, outside of my brother, I wasn’t sure anyone had ever gone to so much effort for me. I’d probably fall on my ass, but I at least had to try and skate a few steps. Rusty came around to open my door, and thenhe retrieved a giant duffel bag from the back seat of the truck.

“Will there be many witnesses to my humiliation?” I asked.

“This rink isn’t open to the public. I called in a favour to borrow it for an hour. There might be staff around, but nobody’s going to be gawking, and I won’t let you fall.”

“I think you underestimate my ability to screw things up.”

Rusty made a call, and a guy in a sweater bearing the Storm’s logo greeted us at a side door with a salute.

“Morning, Mr. Bolt.”

“Thanks for doing this.”

Rusty gestured for me to go first. As I passed, he touched the small of my back again, and I jumped.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I forgot.”

Why would he keep touching me like that? Wasn’t that one of those date indicators he’d pointed out when we were watching Kelsey in the Salt Shaker? It couldn’t be, because this wasn’t a date, this was just two friends. Were we friends? I figured we were. Two friends on our way to do something both fun and terrifying. Fun for Rusty, terrifying for me.

Twenty minutes later, I sat on a bench wearing warm clothing, pads, and a helmet. Rusty knelt in front of me, lacing up my skates.

“Why aren’t you wearing a helmet?” I asked. “Aren’t you worried about getting hurt?”

He gave a soft chuckle. “Not much up here to damage, so my mom always said.”

But there was. There was kindness and generosity. Rusty was a man trying his best to give me a day to remember, although whether I’d remember it for good reasons or for bad was still up for debate. Either way, I sure wouldn’t forget this trip.

Rusty hopped backward onto the ice and beckoned me to walk. I clomped toward him, unsteady on narrow blades. He held out his hands, and I grabbed them, hanging on for dear life as I took a tentative step onto the slippery surface.

“Don’t forget to breathe.”

“This is good. I’ll just stay here.”

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